


What Comes After

by DarkSakura



Series: Tales of Erafen ( Dragon Age ) [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dragon Age AU, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-03-25 15:56:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3816292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkSakura/pseuds/DarkSakura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a collection of drabbles about what happens after the events of Sorrow's End. They feature many of the characters of Dragon Age that we've come to love, and bridges the gap between Sorrow's End and the next tale!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Daddy's Little Girl

Miryam cursed. She cursed at Cullen, she cursed at the Maker, she cursed at Andraste, and she cursed at everyone else around her. What she did not curse, however, was the child she presently very much wanted out of her body.

"You're doing fine, _falon_ ," Erafen told her. "See? We Dalish know a thing or two about birthing. Let the cool water take the pain."

  "H-how can... you birth when your hips are so naaAAAAAH!" Miryam cried out.

"Push, _falon_! Nevermind my narrow hips!" 'Fen held her friend's hand tightly, breathing along with her, fairly certain Cullen was outside of the birthing tent hyperventilating. "I promise, this will end soon."

Outside of the tent, Cullen paced. He was out of his armor, wearing simple comfortable clothes, but he still paced and reached for the hilt of a sword he wasn't wearing out of habit. "How long does something like this take?"

"It takes as long as it takes, and you won't make it any faster by wearing a trench into the ground," Merrill said, arms folded. "Sylanna and Erafen will be there with her. She doesn't need you making her more nervous."

"I can't believe Erafen convinced Miryam that this Dalish method was better," Cullen muttered.

"It IS better," Merrill insisted. "It's how I'll do it when my turn comes. There were birthing pools much grander than this in Arlathan."

He threw up his hands. "Very well. I... Miry?" He heard a loud cry, and then another younger set of lungs bellowed out her displeasure at being outside of her warm wet little nest.

"Wait! She's not done!" Merrill said, placing a hand on Cullen's arm.

"But the baby is out!" he protested.

"That's _not_ all that needs to come out," Merrill said, trying not to giggle. "You really don't know much about childbirth, do you?"

Cullen forced himself to relax, rubbing the back of his neck. "No, precious little, I'm afraid."

"Ask a mother sometime," the Keeper advised. "She'll give you details." She did giggle at that, and started explaining more of the process to an increasingly stricken Commander.

He stood there, awestruck, considering what the elf told him. "Truly, _truly_ , my wife is a goddess."

——

  
The happy parents decided on the name Evelyn, nicknaming the little girl “Evie”. She was as normal an infant as could be expected: crying, sleeping, eating, pooping like any baby. As she grew a little older, fine blonde curls appeared on her head, and her eyes stayed the same blue her mother possessed. There was not a single soul at Skyhold that wasn’t instantly enamored of the little girl.

The advantage her growing up at Skyhold gave was that Evie would always have educators from all over Thedas, the protections of its fortifications, and plenty of aunties and uncles to entertain her when she wanted attention. If anything, Cullen and Miryam had to be firm with her so that she wouldn’t grow up spoiled.

Thankfully, as she grew into toddlerhood, Evie remained sweet and likable. She loved playing with Fenrian when Erafen brought her son to visit, and thanks to the elves of Skyhold, she was picking up the Elvhen language along with the common tongue.

——

“Daddy, look! I’m smacking bad guys!” Evie called out in her little five year old voice. “Raise your shields!” she hollered in her best imitation of the Commander. “You don’t wanna get arrowed in the face!”

Cullen laughed, watching his daughter lead her army of toy soliders against a rather ratty plush dragon. She charged, holding her sword like he’d taught her, and smacked the dragon with the flat of her wooden blade.

“Take that, darkspawn!” she cried. She turned around to cheer, but then a large rat crossed her path, being chased by one of the descendents of Erafen’s Bull the Second. It shocked her, and in that instant, her sword caught fire in her hand.

“DADDY!!” Evie screamed, unable to drop the sword, feeling the fire catching on her sleeve. Cullen moved in an instant, forcing himself to be gentle in Silencing his daughter’s magic, hating that he needed to, and patted out the fire with his own cloak.

“Shhh, Evie, it’s ok, it’s just magic. Like Mama’s, right?” Cullen said. When the fire was out, he scooped his daughter up, calling for the healer and heading right for their quarters.

Erafen came as soon as she heard, arriving with Solas and Fenrian in tow. The little boy was off playing with other children while his parents helped attend to Evelyn.

“She was frightened,” Cullen said, still shaken himself. “I’ve never seen a child come into magic before, only came to take them…”

“You did right to Silence her,” Solas said calmly.

“When mine came to me, I was a teenager and immolated my attacker,” Erafen told him. “You prevented it from going out of control.”

“I still used my abilities as a Templar on my daughter,” Cullen muttered.

“And she was fortunate it was _you_ , someone who knows how to be gentle,” Miryam said. “I also was not as fortunate. My entire bedroom had snowdrifts in it and I was close to freezing to death. I was Silenced immediately by a Templar and was taken to the Circle at Ostwick the next day. Cullen, look at me.” She moved in front of her husband, forcing him to make eye contact with her. “You did the right thing. You helped Evelyn.”

“All right,” Cullen said, relenting.

“I would suppose that her magic is so strong at her age due to your Anchor,” Solas told Miryam as soon as Cullen relaxed. “She can learn to control her abilities, but she may need to call on you in the Fade.”

“I can do that,” Miry said with a nod.

“She can learn with the children of Halam’abelas, if you like,” Erafen said. “When she’s a bit older. For now, she’s absolutely safe here, and she doesn’t have to grow up afraid of the Circles or being imprisoned in one.”

Cullen was silent, thoughtful, and he stood to walk around to the other side of the bed, kneeling there to look at his sleeping daughter. Her arm was still pink from where it’d been healed, and he reached out to take her tiny hand. “No Circles, no Templars. No Harrowing, no Abominations. She’ll be free. She's _fine_.”

——

Miryam thought learning that Evie had magic would encourage the girl to put down the sword, but the the young one was determined that she would have, as she said, a “sword-staff”. They reached a compromise when she was seven: Evie would learn polearms, starting with a wooden staff and moving into glaives and mage staff blades.

“She’s going to need to learn more specialized magic, I think,” Miryam told Cullen. “Vivienne’s offered to tutor her privately in the skills of a Knight-Enchanter when Evie reaches thirteen. She can start preparing for it while she studies in Halam’abelas.”

“Is Vivienne truly who you want educating our child?” Cullen asked. "I don't mean ill will towards the Divine's Left Hand, but Vivienne has some particularly conservative ideas."

“Cassandra will be there,” Miryam said. “And we have an _eluvian_ set up to get us to Val Royeaux quickly. That’s still a while off.”

——

Thirteen years old, and Evelyn Rutherford was lovely and sweet, but that hid a mind full of mischief and a determined spirit. She sat on the balcony edge next to Fenrian, her best friend, looking out over Halam’abelas.

“How long will you be gone?” he asked her.

“Dunno, till I’m an adult, I’d wager,” Evie said, letting out a sigh. “You’re going to be busy soon anyway, with all of your Coming of Age stuff.”

“Yeah,” Fenrian said. “But hey, maybe we can use the eluvian. Keeper Merrill would take me to visit, I’m sure. But I mean, isn’t that Knight-Enchanter stuff the same as our Arcane Warriors?”

“Something like it, but I guess that I’ll find out for sure. I just don’t want to leave Skyhold or my Mama and Daddy,” Evie lamented.

“You’ll be all right. You’ve got the Lion in you, tall and fierce. You can stand against anything, _falon_ ,” Fenrian told her.

“And you’ve got the Wolf, yeah?” Evie asked. “Just as fierce and unrelenting." She nodded at him firmly and released a long breath. "We’ll be okay.”

——

“As you have passed your Trials, I now declare you Knight-Enchanter of the Circle of Val Royeaux, pledged in service to Divine Victoria and to the Inquisition,” Madame Vivienne declared, placing the medal on the armored robes Evelyn wore. “You do your parents and the Chantry proud. Stand tall in the Maker’s light.”

Evelyn bowed to her teacher and the Divine, then turned to face the crowd. Two sets of eyes met hers, and she was certain she saw tears in both those of her mother and her father.

——

Three more years passed, and an uprising was squashed, led by a group again bearing the name of the Venatori. Evelyn Rutherford, now Lieutenant in Skyhold’s forces, led her own contingent of mages against the core group, striking a blow against them and ending the last of their numbers.

She stalked away from the battlefield, towards the camp, and one tired figure stood there waiting for her, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

“Your mother’s still cleaning out the last of the summoned creatures. This fight was over quickly,” Cullen said. "I'd hardly call it a war."

“Sir,” Evelyn nodded, but in the next moment, she ran forward to throw her arms around her father, heedless of the blood both had on their armor. “I saw you take an arrow…”

“And I saw you cut down their leader. I’m so proud, Evie. So proud,” he told her, wrapping his arms around his daughter.

Evie closed her eyes, and she thanked the Maker for being the person she was.


	2. Different

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenrian learns that people are different, but the differences need not be scary. Cullen finds his absolution in an unlikely place.

“ _Mamae_ , why does my teacher call me ‘old blood’?” Fenrian, aged seven, asked, curled to his mother’s side while they read over a book together.

“Because of your _babae_ , because you are Elvhen,” Erafen replied.

“What is different?” the boy asked, pushing his silken black hair out of his eyes. “We all have pointed ears. We are all more graceful than the humans, yes?”

“There are humans more graceful than some elves, don’t forget, _da’fen_ ,” his mother said gently. “The Elvhen, as we define it now, are those who lived from the old days and have inherited the immortality and bond to the Fade.”

“And the others? _Shem’vhen_?” he asked.

“Funny how the word Abelas cobbled together has spread,” Erafen said with a roll of her eyes. “But we maintain equal standing. All must earn their place. How far one goes is determined by merit, not privilege of blood. Thankfully, the Elvhen who have joined us have been accommodating and taking jobs better suited for long lives.”

“Like Danya teaching the _Dirth'ena Enasalin_?” Fenrian asked, looking like he understood.

“Like that, yes, because her long life has given her the knowledge and she is an expert,” Erafen explained.

“ _Babae_ still thinks I should learn Fade Magic,” Fenrian said.

“Do you want to?” ‘Fen asked him.

“I think so, but I like learning sword stuff from Uncle Cullen,” the boy told her. “Evie likes swords.”

“And you like Evie,” his mother laughed. “She’s fun to play with, isn’t she?”

“Yeah,” Fenrian said, scratching the back of his neck.

Erafen leaned her forehead against his, sharing a laugh, but she looked up when Solas came in, sending an air of urgency ahead of him. "What is it,  _'ma Fen_?"

“Evelyn Rutherford has manifested her magic and injured herself in the process,” he told them. "A runner came from Skyhold a few moments ago."

“Evie has magic, too?” Fenrian asked, excited and not understanding.

“We’ll hurry. Fenrian, you’ll have to play with some of the boys at Skyhold,” Erafen said, standing up. “Grab your cloak quickly.”

"Yes,  _Mamae_ ," the youngster replied, going to do just that.

The family hurried, traveling via the eluvian, and Erafen branched off to leave Fenrian with Sylana while they were busy. Thankfully, his favorite of his aunts, Sera, was there with her very large and somewhat scary Qunari girlfriend.

“I don’t understand,” Fenrian grumbled. “It’s great that she has magic!”

“It’s scary if you didn’t know you had it,” Sera pointed out. “I’m still scared shi— scared silly over it. Not so bad like I used to be. Evie got hurt when it happened.”

“And _Mamae_ and _Babae_ came to help her,” Fenrian said, understanding. “Is she ok?”

“I think her daddy got to her quickly enough,” Sera said, keeping her usually sharp tone gentle for the boy. “Come on, I’lll show you some more arrow stuff. Herah, wanna play target?”

“All right,” he said, letting himself be convinced.

"Do I  _want_ to? No. Will I? Yes, because I'm apparently an idiot," the Qunari woman said, shaking her head in resignation.

Later that night, Fenrian snuck wandered out of his parents’ rooms and headed out to the Herald’s quarters, going to check on Evie.

“Are you awake?” he asked softly, trying not to wake Cullen and Miryam in the large bed across the room.

“Yeah,” Evie whispered, careful as well.

“I heard you have magic now,” Fenrian said.

“Yeah. I burned my arm, but Daddy made it stop,” she answered.

“How does he make it stop?” the boy asked.

“He learned how to a long time ago. It was scary, but Mama says I can come learn magic with you now,” Evie told him, a little excitement in her voice. “I can stay at your big tree thing.”

Fenrian giggled. “The Keep! You’ll have fun!! You’ll learn how to make fire in the air and make it snow and fix owies and…”

“Now now,” an older and sleepy male voice called out. “So many plans, and it’s already late.” Cullen pulled himself out of bed, grinning at his wife when she giggled, half-asleep herself. He came over, kneeling next to his daughter’s bed where Fenrian was.

“Sorry, Uncle Cullen,” Fenrian said nervously. “I was worried about Evie.”

“I know you were, lad. Evie needs to sleep, though, and so do you. Shall I take you back to your rooms?” the former Templar offered. "I'm sure your parents don't want you wandering alone through Skyhold."

“Yes, ser,” the elven boy said with a nod, though he laughed in surprised when Cullen scooped him up so the child could ride on his large shoulder. When they were in the Great Hall, Cullen found himself paused by a question Fenrian asked.

“You can stop magic like Templars?” he wondered.

The older human let out a sigh. “I used to be a Templar a long time ago. I left them because… very bad things happened. I can still do some of the things they can, though not as strongly as I used to.”

“You did that to Evie because she was hurting herself,” Fenrian said.

“I did,” Cullen affirmed. “I couldn’t let her burn up.”

The boy was quiet for a moment, then he leaned his head against the top of Cullen’s. “It’s ok. Evie is ok now.” He let out a breath. “You do good things with your Templar magic.”

Cullen froze for a moment, and then he smiled at the boy. “Come on, let’s get you to your parents. And… thank you, Fenrian.” He made sure the child was stable again, and continued his way up to take him back to his parents.

"You're... welcome," Fenrian said politely, yawning in between the words. His friend would be okay, and her parents were kind people. He thought maybe his _mamae_ was right, that there was room in Thedas for old blood, new blood, and anyone else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone's been following my DA tumblr (fenenaste.tumblr.com), I've recently posted that my muse bit me again, and I have another idea for a story. Before I can set up the story, I have to set up characters, and before I can set up characters, I have to at least post a few more of these stories here. Alas, my writing will never be done! 
> 
> Also, this one is short, but it was one scene in particular that I wanted to write.


	3. The Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anora gives birth, and Alistair ends up with more than he anticipated.

“ _Twins_?” Alistair asked, jaw dropping. For the moment, he didn’t nervously babble. He didn’t have a quip to make. He was simply floored.

“Your majesty, we are all surprised,” the midwife told him. “But that’s… not all.”

“Anora,” Alistair said, suddenly still and composed.

“She’s bled a lot. The children almost didn’t make it. If you want to go in before she passes…” the woman shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

“As am I,” Alistair muttered, and he walked past the older woman to go see to his Queen.

Anora was propped up on pillows, holding her babies, her arms supported by more cushions piled up underneath.

“So it seems death is my reward after all,” Anora said weakly, her voice barely audible. “No, do not apologize. There is no better cause I could die for.”

“I’m still sorry,” Alistair said. “I know we were forced into this, but I don’t regret it.”

“I’m not your Warden,” Anora said. “Warden Ilaan Sabrae will not come back. Do not let my children grow up without a mother, but do not bring in a woman you do not love. Swear it to me, Alistair.”

The King let out a sigh, and he leaned over to press a kiss to Anora’s forehead. “I swear I will not turn away a chance for love by comparing her to Ilaan… as I did with you.”

“I saw too much of Cailan in you, but you were the better king, the better husband. I still loved him more,” she told him. “But you will be a good and responsible father. Of anyone, you… you know what it’s…” Her voice faded.

“I know what it’s like to grow up without them,” Alistair supplied. “Go swiftly to the Maker’s side, Anora.” He kissed her forehead again.

When he moved back, her eyes were closed, no breath came from her lips. Alistair let out a long sigh, and he called for the midwife.

“Cecily,” he spoke, and the woman was in immediately, tending to the children. She passed the daughter to him first.

“Will you name them? Your daughter is firstborn,” the woman said.

“Alaina,” Alistair said, remembering Anora mentioned the name before. He looked into the girl’s sleeping face, watching her fidget before settling down again. He passed her to an aide to put the child to bed, and then he took his son.

“Aiden,” the proud father announced. The boy fidgeted as well, but once back next to his sister, he calmed right down.

“Maker keep you both,” Alistair told them, and went to arrange for the Queen’s funeral.

——

“ _Ow_! Daddy, Aiden pulled my hair!” Alaina called out. This was followed by a loud THWAP by a toy sword and a loud cry from her brother.

“DADDY! Alaina just hit me in the knee with her sword!” Aiden announced.

  “Aiden! Alaina! Come here!” Alistair commanded it in his best “King Daddy” voice, and the two five year olds did so, climbing into his lap as they always did.

Alaina had more of her father’s features, mostly his kind eyes and auburn hair. Aiden took a bit more after his mother, his hair in a long blonde ponytail at the back of his neck. He was far more serious than his sister, but the two were inseparable.

“Now then,” Alistair said, looking seriously at the children in his arms. “Tell me how this happened.”

“We were playing and I fell and grabbed Alaina’s braids and it was an _accident_ ,” Aiden insisted.

“It _hurt_ ,” Alaina said. “So I smote him. He did it on purpose. He swooped down to try to take my sword and grabbed my hair!”

“Aiden…” Alistair tried hard not to smirk. “Swooping is bad.”

“But the hair grab was an accident!” the boy insisted.

“All right, so,” the King said, and looked at them both seriously. “One day, one of you will be Queen or King,” he began. “So hair pulling and smiting your siblings is quite frowned upon.”

“Aiden can _have_ the throne,” Alaina huffed. “I want to be a Templar and protect the mages.”

For the second time in the life of his children, Alistair found his jaw dropping. “But… why?”

“The Inquisitor is a mage, and she’s made the Templars better,” the girl explained. “I want to be like them.”

“And Aiden?” Alistair asked.

“I… don’t want to do that, Daddy,” the boy said, for once disagreeing with his sister. “I like learning things and the _strat-turg-gee_ stuff Uncle Teagan has been teaching me.”

“See? He _wants_ to be a King. Not me,” Alaina pointed out.

“Well, you’ve both given Daddy a lot to think about,” Alistair said, looking thoughtful and still surprised. “And if you both keep those opinions, you make things superbly easy down the line for reasons you are both too young to understand. Thrones get argued over and tear families apart. You both promise me, you’ll remember that you’re siblings first.”

“Yes, Daddy,” both children said seriously.

“Now, who wants to go do that thing that your nanny hates?” Alistair grinned.

“YAY!!” came the cries of happiness, and Alistair stood up, hauling his children off and down the hall.

——

Ten year old Alaina and Aiden stood back against the wall, watching the dancing. They were old enough to attend the ball, enjoying the food and the fancy dresses and the songs and the dances. This particular event was in celebration of the anniversary of the end of the Fifth Blight, and elves were there to also celebrate their fallen member. Keeper Merrill from Halam’abelas was there, and she told the best stories! She was with them this time, talking about how Clan Sabrae met the Grey Warden Duncan.

“And then as they traveled, your father and Warden Ilaan fell in love,” she told them, knowing the children knew already. “But she thought of the bigger picture, of what Ferelden needed, and so she arranged for your father and mother to marry and rule.”

“Who is that lady?” Alaina asked, indicating a dark-haired woman on her father’s arm, the two talking intently.

“Her name is Caryn, an elf-blooded girl of Clan Lavellan. Her mother died when Wycome was under attack, so she was taken in by the Clan. She’s become quite the diplomat in the Free Marches. Your father seems very taken with her,” Merrill explained.

“I’ve never seen Daddy smile like that at another lady,” Aiden observed.

“Love often blooms in the last place you expect it. Let me tell you how I met my love, Carver Hawke,” Merrill replied. “Here I was a Dalish First, and he became a Templar…”

——

  
Fifteen years old, and Alaina Theirin was in her second year of Templar training. She was back in Denerim to visit her family, waiting for the birth of her new sibling. At first, she’d been slow to accept the woman as her step-mother, but she couldn’t begrudge her father his happiness.

Caryn was a kind and gentle woman, quick to laugh, and absolutely in love with her husband. She made an effort to be a part of the lives of his children, and was instant friends with Aiden. Alaina soon fell in after the new Queen came to the training grounds specifically to speak with her.

“Father, please,” Alaina said, patting his hand gently. “I know my mother died, but that doesn’t mean it will happen with Caryn.”

“Sister is right,” Aiden said. “All will be fine. You did so well with us, this baby will be blessed to have you both.”

“I pray you’re right,” Alistair said. “I’m not a very good mother,” he joked, forcing a smile out for his children.

“But you are an _amazing_ father,” Aiden said seriously.

“And just think, we’ll have someone new in the family to antagonize!” Alaina joked. “Think Caryn would mind terribly if we borrowed the baby to run around with?”

Alistair snorted. “Wait until she’s older, would you?”

“Of course,” his daughter laughed. “See, you’re laughing, too.”

Before the other two could say a word, they could hear a loud cry, and Alistair was on his feet. He was already moving forward, but then he remembered. “No, not done yet.” He forced himself to wait, but he paced.

“What are you waiting for?” Aiden asked.

“Afterbirth,” Alaina said sagely, explaining.

“That sounds _horrid_ ,” Aiden declared.

It wasn’t too long until Alistair was allowed to go see his wife, and he was relieved that while she was tired, she was very much alive and relieved to have their new daughter out of her womb. The little girl was dark-haired like her mother, and thankfully, free of the taint. They decided to name her Carys.

“Well, we have so many ‘A’ names,” Alaina agreed. “We’ll allow it.” She winked.

“But now Father and I are outnumbered by all of you women,” Aiden pointed out.

“You know, I’m rather _fine_ with that,” Alistair laughed.

“I’d be fine with the lot of you letting me and Carys sleep, you know,” Caryn announced, looking rather worn out.

——

Aiden waited this time. He nervously awaited word on his sister as she completed her Vigil. She’d been fasting and praying, declaring her dedication to the Maker, and there would be a ceremony for when she takes her first draught of lyrium. He knew of the addiction; she knew it, too.

“Why was it you could just stop taking lyrium?” he asked his father, standing there waiting for the procession.

“I don’t know, I just did, but I did have the nightmares and nasty withdrawal and whatnot,” Alistair said. “I took lyrium when I continued my training after the Blight ended. Not my brightest idea. The dreams were horrible. No naked ladies, unless you count desire demons.”

Aiden snorted. “I pray Alaina is able to withstand the addiction.”

“She’s been at this for a while,” Alistair said. “Eighteen and a Templar by her own choice. I’m terribly proud, but yeah, the thought of her out there fighting is enough to make me spoil my armor.”

“That’s what those unlucky enough to fight her will be doing,” Aiden said firmly. “She’s scary and plays dirty.”

“Be glad you don’t know what it’s like to fight with squishy smallclothes,” Alistair said absently.

“Father!” Aiden said in surprise, but then he noted the wink the King gave him. He might have called the man on it, but the drumming began, and the three new Templars walked in, Alaina at the center of them.

All three knelt before the altar of Andraste, reciting their vows in reverent voices. The Revered Mother approached, blessing each of them, listening to their individual vows. She turned and passed each a box containing their philter and implements.

Alaina stood, being the first called, and she exposed her arm, taking the first injection. Next, she took a potion of lyrium, drinking the draught in one long draw. She stood there, trembling with the raw power that coursed through her, a gasp audible.

The other two reacted worse than Alaina, both being older young men. The ginger man to her right took his dose and almost doubled over, but he recovered quickly, bowing before the Revered Mother. The brown-haired man to her left, however, immediately collapsed, finding himself overwhelmed with the power.

Alaina broke protocol, turning to her fellow trainee, and she knelt beside him, her hand on his forehead while she prayed. The trembling stopped, and he sat up slowly, bowing to her as he recovered.

“That’s my girl,” Alistair said proudly, and he cheered with the rest of the crowd as the three new Templars turned to salute the gathered crowd.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was fun to write, because I love writing Alistair. I'm working on another chapter now; it'll get posted when it's done! 
> 
> Are there any requests while I'm writing ever-afters? Leave me a comment!


	4. The Game Never Sleeps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erafen and Solas remember how The Game is played.

Halamshiral changed little, as far as Erafen was concerned, but she was again there to play The Game, peering through her mask as she looked out at the Orlesian nobles gathered. She hated such functions, but they were necessary. In the ten years since Halam’abelas was finished, she’d found herself needing to keep the ties strong with the Imperial Court. She found a surprising friend in Briala, who regretted the things that were necessary to obtain what she did, but would always still do those things with the benefits of all elves in mind.

King Alistair of Ferelden finally pushed the nobles of his kingdom until the promised land for the elves was granted for them to build on. Not to be outdone, two more cities formed in the Dales, and it seemed that suddenly that appropriated elven culture was fashionable. That didn’t mean the deplorable conditions in the Alienages were at an end; plenty were still ghettos, but conditions were improving.

Erafen and Solas attended the ball in the interest of forming a new country of the Dales. It would still be, in essence, part of the Orlesian Empire, but be self-governed. The groundwork was already in place; it just needed to be made policy, and Celene already saw the benefit of having a prosperous nation in place of empty fragmented lands.

Still…

“I hate these events,” Erafen said with a practiced false smile in place.

“I know, _vhen’an_ ,” Solas told her gently. “But you still have the _shemlen_ fooled. You are also easily the most beautiful being to grace these halls.”

Erafen blushed prettily, her smile turning more genuine. “And I can tell you that you have your fair share of admirers.”

“Shall we invite them to our bed, my heart?” Solas teased.

“Only if they’re in our bed while we’re somewhere else,” Erafen laughed. “Even better if it’s not our bed.” She winked at him.

The two were wearing the best of the fashions growing among the new elven cities, the outfits a flowing combination of Elvhen comfort and Dalish practicality. Neither wore shoes, but their feet were adorned in coverings over the top and arches. They and their entourage did wear masks, but instead of metals and leathers as the base, they were primarily made of different wood with some metal and fabric accents.

“The last time I was here, people did not know what to make of me. This time, they still do not, though some have recognized me,” Solas commented.

“You are worth commenting on, my Wolf,” Erafen told him. “Plenty still call us upstarts.”

“I don’t think this would be a party without an attempt on our lives, _vhen’an_ ,” he replied. “Or on that of the Marquise.”

As if on cue, Briala appeared on the balcony above, looking around. When she saw the elven pair, she waved to them, beckoning them upstairs. They were only too happy to comply.

“I am glad you are here. This party is dreadfully dull,” Briala said. “Dull, but necessary if we are to seek a favorable outcome.”

“What are Celene’s thoughts?” Erafen asked.

  “She’s worried about the tittering of her court, but with the favors I’ve earned and intelligence I’ve gathered, they won’t argue too terribly much,” the Marquise replied. “We should have an announcement this evening. You are both mages, so keep your barriers ready.”

“Of course,” Solas nodded. He and Erafen exchanged knowing looks.

“I know what they call you,” Briala said after a moment. “The personification of the Dread Wolf himself, the god who walks among the People again. I would ask you if this is true.”

“And I would allow you to decide for yourself,” Solas replied, though he fixed a long warning look at the Orlesian elf.

“I… er. I will say it is rumor that has not been confirmed or denied,” Briala said, though for a moment, the proud elven leader seemed cowed, shaken.

“Please don’t concern yourself,” Erafen said gently. “My love’s reputation will only work to the People’s benefit.”

Briala straightened up, gathering her dignity as she did so. “Indeed. Tell me, have you heard more from our Ferelden cousins?”

Erafen nodded. “King Alistair has been generous with land, mostly in the Hinterlands and another now in the Brecilian Forest. I don’t think elves there will have their own nation as it were, not like the Dales, but he’s making things far easier for our people to have their own lives free of oppression.”

“It’s _something_ ,” Briala said, biting back a snort.

“Do not forget, his love was the Hero of Ferelden, a Dalish Warden,” Solas said. There was no reason to mention the former warden’s parentage; Alistair and Fiona were still keeping it a secret.

“Of course,” the Marquise said, relaxing some more. “It makes sense that he would wish to honor his lost love and her people. I should remember that. My apologies, friends. I am on edge. This is everything we could ever have hoped for the elves of this age.”

“Indeed,” Solas agreed. "All of it rests on a razor's edge of timing. We have a show to put on."

There was a faint rustling, and the Empress’ ladies-in-waiting, Fleur, Colombe, and Couteau, approached, each speaking in turn as was their custom.

“The Empress will speak. She has requested that you join her on the balcony,” they told the elves.

“Yes,” Briala said, and she took the lead, following the three human ladies with Erafen and Solas just behind her.

Celene greeted the elves herself, taking Briala and Erafen by the hand gently. “We should expect an attack at this news, but Our promises will be kept. Turning this around successfully will cement our position as allies and benefits us all.”

“Solas and I shall be at the ready,” Erafen affirmed. “The Game is ever afoot.”

Both mages stood to Celene’s left, and Briala took the place to the right. The Empress stepped forward.  
  
“As you know, Our friends, the elves of Orlais, have petitioned that the Dales be granted to them again as a nation. We are pleased to announce that we have reached an accord. The Dales are again a land held by all elves, to be ruled by elves under their laws and in accordance with Orlesian rule. As such, the Dales remain a part of Our Empire.”

There was applause, but Erafen sensed the crackling of magic even as it came across, and she felt Solas erect his barrier while she used a weak spell of ice to freeze the one launching the attack. The man was clearly a hired mage, but he was more of a distraction, the real attacking launching from behind Celene herself. Briala was quick with her blade, dispatching the masked man before he could harm the Empress.

“They act as if we do not expect such treachery,” Briala said, loudly enough to be heard by all, and she wiped the blade off on the man’s expensive suit.

“Are there more who would challenge Our decree?” Celene demanded.

There were no other dissenters, at least in action or word, and Celene raised her hands, holding them out to the crowd. “Please, enjoy the delights shared by our elven countrymen! Surely their prosperity will add to all of Orlais!”

The three elves stayed close to Celene for there remainder of the night until she decided to retire, Briala at her side for ‘private’ discussion. Erafen and Solas moved off towards a familiar balcony, one they’d long ago seen the Inquisitor dancing with her Commander.

“That went as expected,” Solas said.

“Of course, you know Briala probably ordered the attack and warned Celene of it,” Erafen told him, amused.

“It was very convenient and well-timed,” he agreed, lips curled in a slight smirk. “I approve.”

“Of course, you do, Fen’Harel,” Erafen said lightly, but there was a smoldering in her eyes. “Remember when we were here before, on the side balcony, and you were rather insistent with your attention?”

“You called me ‘Ser Grabby Hands’, as I recall,” he replied with a light of amusement in his eyes.

“Perhaps we should see if it’s still as private as we remember… and lock the door behind us.” She approached, leaning in to breathe a kiss to his lips. “We can see how quiet we can be and watch the people below.”

Solas released a hard breath, leaning in to deepen the kiss briefly. “Lead the way, my heart.”


	5. Elf-blooded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris and Alona have a little Hawke.

If it were possible for Fenris to be even surlier than ever, he was. He paced. He stalked. He drank. He forgot to eat, though.

Finally, he went to talk to Varric.

“Look, I know you’ve been settled down for barely a year, but you don’t need to take out your frustration on the poor table,” the dwarf said, indicating where Fenris pounded his fist into the table.

“Do _not_ lecture me on public behavior,” Fenris snarled. "Or about emotionless wood."

“Look, Broody, _something_ is on your mind. Just tell me what’s going on so we can spare the furniture future harm,” Varric advised.

“It’s Hawke.” Fenris said.

“You’ve been with her this long and still call her that?” Varric prompted.

“Fine. _Alona_ ,” Fenris said, forcing himself to relax. “She… she…”

“She loves you? We know, though sometimes it’s hard to see why. She’s comfortable? The Amell estate is pretty nice. She…” Varric found himself interrupted.

“She’s pregnant.”

The next sound the dwarven storyteller made was one of choking on his ale. “She’s what?”

“You heard me,” the elf hissed.

“Well, then, congratulations are in order!” Varric said cheerfully, waving a barmaid over for more drinks.

“What if the child is a mage?” Fenris wondered, letting out his worry.

“Will that change you wanting it or not?” Varric asked, passing over another mug.

“…No. It will _not_. I will love it regardless, but my distrust of mages is not a secret,” Fenris explained, taking the mug. “To be honest, I didn't think I could even produce a child due to the lyrium. And even if the child is not a mage, she or he will still bear the stigma of being elf-blooded.”

Varric actually snorted. “That stigma’s not as big of a deal as it was thanks to Lily and Chuckles. Halam’abelas is thriving. Merrill and Carver’s little girl has been perfectly fine there.”

“The old prejudices still live in the Free Marches,” Fenris started to protest.

“And Hawke is enough of a fixture _and_  is well-respected enough that any child she has will be accepted,” the dwarf countered. “You are actually respected, too, Broody.”

Fenris scowled, drinking his ale down. “Damn you.”

“What, for removing your excuses? You’re welcome,” Varric laughed. “Come on, it won’t be so bad. You’ll even be a decent father.”

——

Emilien Hawke was born to joyous (if concerned) parents, and already he seemed to be celebrity. People from all over Kirkwall wanted to see the child, and Alona was having none of it.

The boy wasn't presented until he was brought into the rebuilt Chantry to be blessed, and he was quiet as the holy water touched his forehead.

As he grew, he displayed curious qualities of both parents: Hawke’s ruddy tone, Fenris’ eyes and oddly enough, his hair, and build. He wasn't a mage, which relieved his father, but he was also resistant to lyrium and had a sense of magic that was uncanny. Both parents were ridiculously proud of their son.

One thing was not expected, that the resistance to lyrium would be heard of by the reformed Seekers of Truth. Cassandra Pentaghast herself arrived to entreat the couple to let their boy undertake training when he was of age.

“Cassandra, he’s only a toddler,” Hawke argued, holding the little boy tightly.

“I am not saying to take him now, only that he be trained by Seekers when he is old enough. He is special enough that both sides seek to benefit,” the Right Hand said.

“And what he he doesn't want to be chained to your order?” Fenris challenged, bristling.

“Then he does not undertake the Vigil. He will be free to go. I will see to it myself, if I live. If not, I will make sure trusted parties are responsible,” Cassandra replied.

“If you die, he returns to us for us to decide,” Hawke said calmly. “I must say that making him resistant to possession is attractive, and having our son, someone with our values, in charge of keeping the Templars in check is also attractive.”

“But he is not a tool to be used,” Fenris added, catching his lady’s train of thought. “Would you still want a free thinker among your well-trained ranks?”

“I… yes.” Cassandra took a deep breath, fighting off her own prickly temper. “If those are your terms, I will abide by it.”  “And that he’s elf-blooded doesn't matter?” Fenris further inquired.

Cassandra shook her hair. “No. Not with the work among the elves. Some may consider it to be an asset. Certainly with parents as famous as his, he will not see much strife.”

“We will consider it then, Seeker Pentaghast,” Alona finally said. “And when he is of age, we’ll let you know not only what we have decided, bit what Emilien has decided, too.”

“That is… fair. I accept,” the Seeker agreed, and she excused herself.

——

  
Emilien grew up strong, smart, and rather attractive. He had the slender athletic build of his father, even some of the fine-boned features, but he had enough of his mother’s features to keep his elven blood obfuscated. His parents made sure he knew what the Seekers were, what their order stood for, and that he started learning swordplay as soon as he was old enough to hold a practice blade.

At thirteen, rather than join the Seekers, he decided to start his training with the Templars of Kirkwall, but a year later, he did change his mind and begged his parents to let him go with Cassandra.

“Are you sure you want this, Len?” Alona asked him, working on strengthening the enchantments in his practice armor.

“There is a lot of things the Templars say that I don’t like, especially what they say about mages, Mum,” Emilien answered. “They embarrass me.”

“Well, don’t be embarrassed on my account. Just set them right,” Alona told him.

“That’s why I want to go to the Seekers,” Emilien said. “I talked to Knight-Commander Seth. He told me more about them. I think I’ll do good there.”

“Your father won’t be happy, but we both support you, Len,” his mother said, leaning in to kiss his forehead. “Just don’t forget what we've taught you and where you came from.”

“Yes, Mum,” Emilien said, and he hugged his mother tightly.

——

Emilien Hawke decided to go through with the Vigil, but there were complications. It took an extra process to render him Tranquil, and he knew he was accepting it when it happened, unlike other Seekers. He still reacted as expected when the Spirit of Faith was drawn to him, and he knew the peace other Seekers did in that moment.

At seventeen, he was one of the youngest to undergo the Vigil, and almost immediately he was snatched up for service under Seeker Pentaghast. He was bright, questioned everything, and was exactly what the elder Seeker wanted.

“I am training a replacement,” Cassandra said after a moment. “I do not fully trust my fellow Seekers, not those led astray while we fought Corypheus,” she continued.

“I had a feeling,” Emilien said, frowning sharply. “Why else would you have taken me yourself? I had to tell my parents I didn't really know why, though I think they guessed.”

“Because they are not idiots. They likely had an idea when they permitted you to begin training,” Cassandra told him. “No, I will not live forever, neither will the Divine or the Left Hand. We need to prepare those who will follow after us, to keep our Order alive and the Faith of the Maker strong and vibrant.”

“But not in the face of denying truth,” Emilien said firmly. “I will not lie to people. Not especially after what we've learned from the elves in Halam’abelas.”

“No, we do know so much more than we did.” Cassandra let out a long sigh. “But they have not disproved the Maker nor have they tried. We are in a harmonious balance for now, and it needs to remain such.”

“Then let me know what my mission is,” Emilien told her, bowing his head.

“Oh, dear boy,” the older Seeker said. “It is so much bigger than you know.”

——

Emilien stepped out at Skyhold, there on the business of the Divine. His parents were with him to visit the Inquisitor, but his own purpose was to make sure the Inquisition stayed true to its purpose. He knelt before the Lady Inquisitor, head bowed, and he accepted the blessing she had for him in Andraste’s name.

“Welcome to the Inquisition, Seeker Emilien Hawke,” Miryam told him.

“It is an honor,” Emilien replied, and he took his place among the Inquisition's inner circle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for those who have followed with this! It's been more me getting characters out of my head, but I'm gearing up for the next big story! Leave me some feedback if you will!


	6. Sera Was Never

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sera was never a lot of things.

_"Sera was never quite an agreeable girl—_  
_Her tongue tells tales of rebellion._  
_But she was so fast,_  
_And quick with her bow,_  
_No one quite knew where she came from."_

Of all the things Sera thought she'd never be, a mother was firmly in a top position on that list. She really did a good job of resisting the idea, even when Herah, as a favor to Iron Bull and Dorian, agreed to carry a Qunari child for the pair. Herah took to her role as surrogate very well, though she did her best to assure Sera that they were only responsible until the child was weaned.

Still, Sera found herself befuddled. What were these weird feelings she had? Sure, the Qunari baby was a cutie, all stubby horns and little noses and grabby hands, but why did she feel a pang of jealousy when she saw the little one toddling around?

Sera was never subtle when it came to what she wanted.

"Herah, I'm going to find some boy to fuck," Sera announced in bed one night. "I know, rubbish and disgusting. I'll need to be piss drunk and just get it over with, but I want one of those babies."

"We could adopt a war orphan," the Qunari suggested. "Less involving unpleasant boy bits."

"Nooo, I want to be selfish and carry one and do all the shite you did," Sera whined.

"One condition," Herah said, stroking her lover's messy blonde hair.

"Name it, Horny," Sera said, grinning cheekily.

"Elf. Gotta be with an elf." Herah grinned.

The elf made a face. "What? An elfy boy? No, ew! Bad enough I'm considerin' it at all!"

"But I love everything about you, and I'd want our little one to end up as cute as her or his mama," Herah insisted. "Like your ears, those eyes, that nose..." She leaned in to kiss each of the things she mentioned. "All like you."

"Ugh, fine, but you have to do that thing I like, and you gotta distract me," Sera groused, and Herah was only too happy to oblige, ducking under the covers to attend to her lover's request.

\----

Sera was never as specific as she was in these particular set of requirements. No mages for one thing. Not that she didn't like the mages that were her friends, but magic still frightened her. Mages were right out.

She also wanted someone she probably wouldn't see that often, but looked pretty enough she could be certain of the progeny. She didn't want to enjoy it; she only wanted to be very drunk and not remember a whole lot about it. It'd definitely be easier to get it over with if Herah was there, too, distracting her.

The Antivan elf, she decided, would do nicely, and he wouldn't want an attachment. She remembered him from how he helped Erafen, so with the right Jennies delivering messages, they arranged a meeting, used some potions, and things worked out how Sera wanted them to.

"That was probably one of the most unromantic things I've done, but anything for a friend of Erafen," Zevran told Sera before he left the tavern.

"Well, it wasn't _too_ scary," Sera admitted. "Especially since you let Herah play, too. Seriously, she blocked you out the whole time! Brilliant, that!"

"I will remember not to be insulted, Lady Sera," Zevran replied, smiling broadly. "I am used to being wanted only for my body; never before has it been so specific."

Sera shrugged. "Yeah, well, don't tell anyone."

Herah, sitting in the corner with her mug of ale, just laughed. "Come here, you," she called to Sera, and the smaller woman was only too happy to comply, leaving Zevran to excuse himself.

\----

Sera was never one to sit quietly when things were not how she wanted them. At this point, she stood over the mess her six year old made of their little cottage on the Skyhold grounds. There were paints all over the walls, making images of sunshine and flowers, and to one side, three little stick figures. One was grey with horns, and two were sun-topped elves with huge ears.

"Jenni, come here," Sera called out. "Did you do this?"

The little blonde elf slipped from her hiding place. Her dusky skin was covered in paints, and she blinked up at her mother.

"Yeah," she said. "The walls needed sunshine."

Sera's expression turned from sullen to immediately pleased. "Brilliant there! Come on, let's go make cookies now. Gotta get you in the bath, though. Can't go gettin' paint in the batter!"

\----

Sera was never the best baker, but she learned to make cookies for Jenni. Herah shared dishes she'd learned from her own mother, and their house was a happy place filled with the best smells and the best tastes.

Jenni learned how to use a bow and arrow under her mother's watchful eye. Mama Herah taught her how to use a dagger properly and disarm a man with her hands and feet. Their little girl soon accompanied them on trips the older she got, finally coming into her own when she started making friends with serving staff and reporting back what she learned.

By the time she was a teenager, Jenni Adaar was adept at breaking and entering, stealing both wealth and information, and using her weapons and her mind. Much to Sera's chagrin, Jenni took an interest in her heritage, spending time in Halam'abelas as well as among the elves of Skyhold. She even met her sire, deciding she liked the man well enough to call him "Uncle Zev" even though she knew the part he played in her existence.

\----

Sera was never the best singer, but Jenni had a voice like sunshine peeking through the clouds, and she loved to sing every change she had. She would spend time with Minstrel Maryden when the human was at Skyhold, cooking up songs and exchanging stories.

"You know that woman drives your mother crazy," Herah told Jenni, mussing her blonde locks.

"I know, but she has brilliant stories, Mama!" Jenni said, chewing on a leg of lamb happily. "She's been all over Thedas! I've only been where you and Mum take me."

"You're sixteen, love," Herah said. "One day you'll get to go out there and travel on your own. Your mum and I will be too old for many adventures."

"That's shite, Mama," Jenni declared. She pointed once with the bone in her hand. "You two are the strongest people I know."

"Well, that's sweet," the Qunari said. "Now stop pointing at me with that thing and finish eating it."

"Yes, Mama."

\----

Sera was never as despondent as she was the week Herah died. She didn't come out of her room. She didn't eat. She sobbed and punched things and drank herself into a stupor.

Jenni wandered in finally, eyes red, and she took a damp cloth to her mother's face.

"Damn them," Sera spat, but she let her daughter clean away the stale booze and tears from her face.

"You got them, Mum. Mama Herah is with the Maker now," Jenni said. "And those bastards are in the Void."

" _We_ got them, baby girl," Sera choked. "I saw you... saw you send an arrow into that one arsehole's eye. Damn Qunari bastards. Herah wasn't... she wasn't who they were after!"

"I'll be here with you, Mum. I won't go anywhere, won't leave you alone," Jenni told her mother. "I'll bake you cookies."

"Hated cookies until you were born, Jen," the older elf admitted. "All right. Bake something brilliant."

\----

Sera was never one for holding back her opinions, especially when she really felt they needed saying.

"You're really going to go with that lot of Templars and mages after the new-fake Venatori?" she asked her daughter.

"Yup," Jenni replied. "Come on, Mum, you were with the Inquisition! I want to do something bigger than just upsetting nobles and stealing pretties! You helped take down an archdemon!"

"A fake archdemon, kid," Sera pointed out. "Ugh, fine, but if you get yourself killed, don't go haunting me. Find Herah and tell her I blame her for you being into the bigger picture."

"I think a bit of that's a part of you, too, Mum, or you'd never have gone with the Inquisition," Jenni pointed out. "All right, packed. I'll come right back when it's done."

"See that you do, or I'll be findin' Mr Fancy-Trousers Cullen and kicking him in his arse!"

\----

Sera was never so relieved to see a contingent of Inquisition soldiers return as she was when she saw them come back with her little girl. Jenni bounded up to her immediately.

"Mum, it was _brilliant_! They weren't so numerous, and Evie took down their leader like he was nothing!"

"Suppose mages are good for _something_ ," Sera grumbled, but she still held her daughter tightly all the same. "You get any good ones off?"

"Well, Evie cast her fire glyph thing, and I pinned some arsehole to the spot with a couple of arrows. He went up like a bonfire! Woosh!" Jenni describe, bubbling with excitement.

"Like the old days, Jen," Sera said, grinning. "All right, you, come home, and we'll catch up."

The two elves, mother and daughter, returned to the little cottage in the back of the Skyhold grounds, where it still smelled like home and the walls bore faded paintings of sun-topped elves and a horned grey Qunari, all holding hands.

Sera was never prouder of anything else she'd done, including joining the Inquisition, helping to defeat the false archdemon, and her work with the Red Jennies. As far as she was concerned, all of that led up to her grown-up little girl, and she was happy with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the last of the fast-forward kids grow up stories. I wanted to establish a few of them first. After all, they're going to have an adventure coming up. This chapter was my favorite to write, and it actually came to me in a dream. =)


	7. Peace and Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Pavus family is quite diverse.

“Harder!” Bull demanded.

“But Paaaaaapaaaaa, I hit has hard as I could!” the young Qunari said fretfully.

“Iron Bull, _amatus_ ,” a low smooth voice said from the side. “You do understand our child is _still_ just that, right? A child?”

“I know, but he needs to train early to be stronger,” the older Qunari said. “We won’t always be around to defend him. OW!”

The younger Qunari grinned broadly. “You stopped looking! I had an opening!”

“Yes, kid, yes, you did,” Bull said, rubbing his sore shin, and he grinned broadly. “I think you learned how to be sneaky hanging around Auntie Sera too much, Kostas.”

“Well, you did want him prepared for anything,” Dorian said with a smirk, approaching to miss the hair on the smaller Qunari’s head.

——

Kostas Pavus was soon joined by a little sister, a child rescued from Tevinter slavers. She had dark hair and skin, resembling her adopted human father, though her eyes were a stormy sea-grey. Her older brother was very protective and walked around as though he were her bodyguard.

Talana Pavus toddled after her much bigger brother, asking him about everything she saw. When she displayed her magic, he was the first to carry her to their _Pater_.

The little girl was more of a success with Dorian’s father, especially when she showed magical talent, but the aging Magister was quite disappointed to find she would be raised away from Tevinter, among the special society grown in Skyhold.

  
——

“How quickly do Qunari boys grow?” Dorian asked, still amazed daily at how large his son seemed to grow. He was already a young teenager, and stood shoulder to shoulder with his human _Pater_.

“He hasn’t even hit his major growth spurt,” Bull laughed. “Herah is quite tall for a Qunari woman. Kostas will be rather bulky, too, if things go well.”

“Oh… _my_.” Dorian let out a sigh. “Should we just stop making him wear shirts? He's only going to tear them and that would be a waste.”

Iron Bull let out a laugh. “Well, the horns will grow, too. Probably a good idea, _kadan_.”

——

It wasn’t as if Kostas didn’t know who gave birth to him. He went for dinner once a week at the cottage on the other side of Skyhold, enjoying the company of his aunts and little “sister”, Jenni Adaar.

“How he hasn’t ended up sounding like Sera is beyond me,” Dorian observed. He fell silent when the teenager approached them.

“Aunt Sera says I can’t be ‘Iron Bull the Second’,” he lamented. “Why?”

“Because there already was one,” Bull replied uncomfortably. “Because Erafen named her _cat_ after me.”

“The… oh?” The boy snickered at that. “So there was a cat named Iron Bull the Second?”

“Yes,” the large Qunari replied. “So you can be Iron Bull _Junior_ if you want.”

“He could be the Silverite Bull,” Dorian offered.

“Maybe I’ll just be Kostas a while longer,” the young man said, and both of his fathers agreed.

——

Talana, a young teen herself, went off to Minrathous to study magic at one of the boarding schools for mages. She was already a controversial figure there, but also quite popular with her unique approach to magic and the influence of her Pater in the Inquisition. The first time someone brought up her Qunari Papa, however, resulted in that same person doubled over with a bloodied nose when she smacked the lad in the face with her staff.

Kostas was ridiculously proud of his little sister.

——

Talana was still in Minrathous when the Venatori reared their collective head again, and she wrote excited and terrified letters outlining the rumors she heard about them. It was actually her letters that proved instrumental in defeating the small Venatori uprising before it really gained momentum.

Kostas went in with the Chargers during the final strike, pleased with himself when he brought his warhammer down on the head of a particularly annoying spellcaster. He was happy the fight was over, and he wandered back to the front lines in time to see the rather pretty blonde mage girl, the child of the Inquisitor, run into her father’s arms. He laughed to himself, and went to find his old man for a drink.

“Something is sitting badly about this with me, kid,” Iron Bull said, kicking back his mug of ale.

“What, with how easy this was?” Kostas asked. “Yeah, me too.”

“Talana’s rumors were rather specific, but they did pan out all right. I’m just wondering if there’s another shoe that will drop, as the humans say.” He handed his son a flagon of the ale.

“Dunno, Papa,” Kostas replied, taking a long drink. “ _Pater_ has been concerned about some of the things he’s heard, but I think it might be a good idea to call Talana back to Skyhold if trouble is coming out of Minrathous.”

“Your _Pater_ would probably agree,” Bull said with a nod. “For now, we celebrate this victory, and we’ll talk about this at home.”

——

As it turned out, they had a harder time getting Talana away from Minrathous. They ended up having to smuggle her out in the middle of the wee hours of the morning, depositing her at her grandfather’s home before getting her to a waiting ship captained by one Admiral Isabela.

“I have heard the talk,” Talana whispered to her brother, sitting in a dark room as she leaned on his broad shoulder. “They spoke of reviving one of the Ancients.”

“This could lead to war,” Kostas whispered back. “That is, if it turns out to be true. The Inquisition council is discussing it now. “

“They’re going to call me in for tomorrow’s discussion,” Talana said. “Are you going on the hunt tomorrow?”

“We’re all restless. I think most of us ‘Inquisition Brats’ are going to be there. Even Fenrian said he’d come,” the Qunari told her.

“Then go have a good time for me, brother,” Talana said with a small smile.

“I’m having a good time right now,” Kostas said, pulling his sister closer. “You’re home, you’re safe, and you haven’t tried to set me on fire yet.” He laughed, and the younger human laughed with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a bit shorter than the others, but I think I've left it at a good point. Talana spawned out of nowhere, but Kostas I had a very firm image of before I wrote him.
> 
> Translation Notes
> 
> Qunlat:  
> Kost - Peace  
> Talan - Truth  
> Kadan - "where the heart lies"
> 
> Tevene ( some taken from Latin):  
> Pater - Father  
> Amatus - a term of endearment
> 
> This is a gift for justonequickdrink on tumblr!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erafen continues to surprise Solas.

Erafen looked out from the balcony of her rooms at Skyhold, watching the gathering in the courtyard. Twenty five years since her son was born, and she found everyone aging around her. Her dearest friend more than doubled in age before her eyes, but she remained strong, continuing to fight when called upon to do so. Erafen was absolutely in awe.

Below, in the courtyard, she watched a gathering happen, one consisting of a small group of young adults, roughly the same age she and her friends were when the Inquisition was re-formed. It was surreal in its own way. Had she not been sent to the Conclave, she’d probably still be First to Clan Lavellan. It could even be possible the freedoms and improved lives of the elves might not have even come to pass.

She drew her attention back to the present, looking over the group below. They were seated on logs around a fire, listening to an aged dwarf tell stories. The oldest of them, her Fenrian, asked questions, thoroughly enraptured in the tales Varric related. Next to her son sat a woman with long blonde curls, listening as well with rapt attention. The twins were next, a templar princess and her brother, the Heir to the Ferelden throne, then the bubbly blonde elven girl, Jenni. The two Pavus siblings whispered to each other but mostly listened, and Emilien Hawke rounded out the group.

“You look as if you would watch them all day,” Solas said from the side, and he came to slide an arm around her shoulders.

“Look at them. Such an oddly matched group, yet they all get on just fine,” Erafen said. “Look at our boy, like the leader of the pack.”

“He _is_ a leader, born to it,” Solas told her firmly. “He will lead through example and through will, though he may argue with Evelyn for it.” He seemed amused by the idea. “No need for him to settle down while he is so young still.”

  “It’s hard to think of him as ‘young’ when he’s already nearing thirty, but… yes. He’s already slowing down in his aging,” ‘Fen observed.

“He is.” Solas seemed pleased with this.

As if understanding he was being talked about, Fenrian looked up at his parents, flashing them a toothy grin, and then he returned to listening to Varric spin his story. It wasn’t missed how he and Evelyn interracted.

“They behave as any romantic couple I’ve seen, yet have shown no desire to change things between them,” Solas commented.

“I don’t think they love each other in _that_ way. It’s more like a deep and abiding friendship, like how I share with Miryam,” Erafen replied, and then her smiled faded. “He’ll watch her grow old.”

“Is it a curse?” Solas wondered. "Is it terrible watching the ones you love die as you live?"

“Sometimes I think it is, but I think it would be worse if I didn’t have you,” ‘Fen replied gently.

She was rewarded by her love pressing a warm kiss to her neck. “Do you think Fenrian would mind if we gave him a sibling?” he inquired, murmuring against her skin.

“What makes you think we haven’t already?” Erafen retorted, and she laughed when she turned to look at her love’s genuinely surprised expression. “I only realized it this morning, here at Skyhold.”

“You continue to surprise me, _vhen’an_ ,” he commented, and pulled her closer to celebrate properly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is short, but it might be the last of the drabbles for a bit. I'm getting ready to start on the next big story!


	9. Not Meant to Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Giving a little background on Emilien and Kostas.

Kostas paced. He was normally easy-going and not prone to anxiety, but today, he absolutely was anxious, and that nervousness was all because of a handsome rogue staying at Skyhold for the past few months. The Qunari let out a huff, watching from the battlements as the source of his nerves currently sparred with one of the Inquisition’s soldiers.

Emilien Hawke had an interesting fighting style, using a one-handed sword with a dagger instead of the broadsword technique his elven father favored. While he'd inherited none of his mother's magic, he did seem a bit sensitive to it and was able to better predict a magical attack coming his way. He finally had the other soldier at swordpoint; the dwarven woman conceded with a bow and a friendly laugh. He helped her to her feet from where she'd been knocked down, and the two seemed to exchange a joke.

Making his way down the stone steps next to the high wall, Kostas approached, arms folded over his bare chest (horns get in the way of tunics), and he smirked when Emilien noticed him.

"Were you watching?" the elf-blooded man asked, tossing the snowy white braid over his shoulder to let his neck cool off.

"I was," the Qunari replied, smirking even more. "You've got amazing form."

Emilien snorted, and he indicated Kostas follow. "I was just going to get cleaned up. I... it's good you came down. I wanted to talk to you."

"Oh yeah?" Kostas wondered. "I wanted to talk to you about something, too."

"Then you can talk while I get cleaned up." While Emilien was not short by any means, Kostas towered over him while they headed towards the small public bathing house.

"Not while you're scrubbing mud out of your skin, no," Kostas laughed. "Meet me upstairs in the tavern when you're done."

"Sure thing," Emilien replied, grinning at Kostas, and he went on in to change out of his armor and get cleaned up.

A mark of the candle went by before Emilien came up, damp hair braided back, tendrils clinging to his dusky skin. He found Kostas in a corner of the tavern, ale and a basket of food waiting.

"Took long enough. Good thing I remembered you like your baths," Kostas said.

"You must have been paying attention," Emilien replied cheekily.

"Perhaps I have," his friend replied.

The two went into easy conversation, talking about the Inquisition, about the six months Emilien spent in training there, about their families.

"Talana has been sending back curious letters," Kostas mentioned. "Enough that I think Pater wants her home. The Old Man agrees, so I think they're going to try to sneak her out of Minrathous."

"Yeah, there's been some odd talk across the board," Emilien agreed, finishing the last bite of his meal. "My father's still making regular trips into Tevinter to stop slavers and rescue elves. He says the air there is different, that the Magesterium have been taking some drastic steps with their slaves."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure my dads are going to be talking with him to make arrangements," Kostas said.

"They may have already, from what my father says," the other man said. His expresison grew guarded for a moment, but he didn't say anything. "Come on, let's take a bottle of wine out and talk. It's stuffy in here."

"No complaints from me," the Qunari agreed, and he led the way downstairs, stopping to fetch a bottle of wine. A few minutes later, and they were walking along the battlements, stopping at the section overlooking the medicinal garden below.

Emilien took a long draw of wine, looking out over the grounds below. "You wanted to talk about something?"

"Yeah, but you did, too, right?" Kostas looked down over at the other young man. "So come on, Emil, spill it."

"You first. Mine's complicated," came the reply.

"Fine, as if this wasn't complicated enough." Kostas took a turn with the bottle, easily drinking half of it down, and he set it on the edge. "I've been glad you were here these last six months. You're easy to talk to, and you seem to understand a lot more about people than you let on."

"Even with the temper?" Emilien asked.

"Even with it," Kostas agreed. "Actually, the temper is one of the things that has... attracted me to you."

Emilien swallowed hard, fixing his friend with a look. "Attracted..."

"Yeah, that," Kostas replied. "Look, I'm going to come right out and say it. Or do it. Maybe both." The nervousness was back with a vengance, and he took a step forward. Emilien flinched, but he didn't move away, and when Kostas kissed him, he leaned in a little, giving in, but still reserved.

"Kostas..."

"If you want me to stop, I will."

Emilien looked up at him, something vulnerable and sad in his eyes. "I don't _want_ you to stop, but you really should. It's what I had to tell you."

The Qunari took a step back, eyes narrowed. "What is it?"

Emilien let out a long sigh. "I'll be heading to meet my parents at Val Chevin," he said in a soft voice. "I replied yesterday. They're both heading into Tevinter for... for what we discussed, and afterwards, I'll be returning with them to Kirkwall."

"You replied... yesterday. And I've been sitting on this for two weeks now," Kostas mumbled.

"It'll be about a year," Emilien continued. "The plan is to free slaves, but we're going to also be smuggling your sister out of Minrathous. I can't do this, us."

Kostas let out a humorless laugh. "So that's it? Of course there's no saying no to you rescuing my sister, for freeing slaves. How selfish of me would that be?" He reached for the bottle, drinking the rest of the wine down, and he threw the bottle off of the opposite side.

"I'm doing this for you! For your sister, and for the slaves there. How could I refuse that?" Emilien countered.

Kostas turned towards him, and then he forced himself to relax. "You can't. So go. Do good. Be a hero. I'll be heading out with the Chargers anyway in a week, so... "

"Kostas, I'm sorry," the other man said.

The Qunari turned to leave. "Yeah, me too, Emil. I'll see you in the morning." He walked off, heading down into one of the towers, and Emilien stood there, knowing that he'd be gone by the dawn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still working on [The New Blood](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3946981/chapters/8847571). This needed to get out of my brain.


End file.
